Maidenbroken
by NS
Summary: Some riddles confuse our hearts, not our brains. A somewhat sequel to Mother of Sorrows. Formerly known as Maidenwebs; changed because this sounded better. ^_^
1. Maidenbroken -- Primium

    Lorraine had always been a shy child. It was pretty much in her genetic   
makeup. Her father was a short, bookish man with thick glasses that were   
usually peering above a heavy spell book or magical treatise, and a quiet,   
rich voice that put one in mind of velvet drapes, or sheets of heavy paper.   
Her mother was a plump woman who loved to knit and embroider, and as a   
result, Lorraine's memories of her home always included a ball of yarn   
sitting on a piece of furniture, or tangled around many of them.   
  
    Currently, her insides felt as knotted as one of her mother's failed   
projects. She was next in line for the Sorting Hat, and she felt certain that   
the Hat would burst out laughing once it got a look inside her head. Not only   
was she nervous to find out where she would be spending the next seven of her   
school years, she was afraid to be away from home and family, without any   
idea of who her classmates were. She had never been very popular at her   
grammar school, with its cliques and bullies.   
  
    Her name was called, ("Lorraine Meadows!") and she stepped up   
reluctantly, pulled the dingy hat over her head, and waited for the raucous   
catcalls to begin. Instead, a gentle voice began to mutter to itself.   
  
    "Lorraine, ey? Gentle, trusting, still a little shy I see. Well, you'll   
make a good mother or teacher someday, I can see that, and a few weeks here   
at Hogwarts should help you be a little more outgoing. You're a Hufflepuff,   
my dear, and the term'll fly by before you know it."  
  
    She removed the elderly hat from her head, and with it, her nervousness   
and tension seemed to melt away like wax in the face of the sun. Maybe   
Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all. Lorraine glided over to the Hufflepuff   
table, careful to take a seat distant from the Fat Friar. Her fears had   
abated somewhat since her assignation to a House, but not enough that she   
wanted to risk sitting next to a ghost.  
  
    Names of her soon-to be comrades and roomates floated around her as the   
line of new first years diminished, and before Lorraine knew it, the older   
students were leading the hordes of slightly bewildered kids back to their   
new Common Rooms. She got up to follow, and a jolt of panic flooded her as   
her foot caught a loose cobblestone, and she tripped headlong to the floor....  
  
    ...or would, have, if she hadn't suddenly found herself clinging to a   
tall boy who had caught her before she could humiliate herself. A smoky red   
blush began to stalk its way up her neck, as she looked up at the gallant   
second-year who had caught her.   
  
    His cool grey eyes twinkled mischievously at her, and the blush raged   
somewhere above her ears.   
  
    "Watch your step, pet," he said, and then was gone into the throng before   
she could even thank him.   
  
    In a sort of daze, she asked the girl next to her, whom she recognized as   
an older Hufflepuff, who the boy that was up ahead was. He had somehow   
managed to make it to the stairs ahead of everyone, which, frankly only added   
to his mystique.   
  
    "Oh. him? He's a Slytherin, Tom Riddle, I think his name is."  
  
    "Tom Riddle," she thought. The name filled her lungs and sang through her   
veins, as she fell instantly and irrevocably in love.   
      
                                    *   *   *  
  
    The Sorting Hat had been right. By halfway through September, Lorraine   
had settled into the rhythms of Hogwarts, as had most of her fellow   
Hufflepuffs.   
  
    Looking around her dormitory, she reflected that before she had come to   
Hogwarts, she thought that the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories were   
the grandest rooms she had ever seen. Quaint floral patterns dominated the   
girls' dormitory, with plenty of windows to let in sunlight and fresh air.   
The Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Nibelungen, maintained that those two   
things were the secret to happiness and health.   
  
    Nibelungen was the Herbology teacher, who was here on an exchange program   
from Sweden. Half the boys in school were in love with her, especially the   
Muggle-borns, who swore that she looked exactly like Ingrid Bergman. Being   
from a wizard family, Lorraine had no idea who Ingrid Bergman was, but even   
she could see that Brunhilde Nibelungen was a beautiful woman.   
  
    Yes, Herbology was Lorraine's favorite course. It would have been her   
favorite course even if the teacher was a hag with a temper shorter than a   
midget in flats. Herbology would have been her favorite course even if she   
would not have been able to tell salient comfrey from Southern Comfort.   
  
    The main reason why Herbology was the highlight of Lorraine's day was the   
fact that the second-year Slytherins were the class directly after hers. That   
meant that she got to see Tom Riddle for at least a minute each day. A moment   
a day was hardly enough to form a relationship with him, but it was enough   
for her to drink in the sight of him, to keep his image in the forefront of   
her mind, to keep his voice on constant reply in her head. Occasionally he   
would give her a brief smile or civil nod of recognization, and those days   
she seemed to positively glow.   
  
    Her most exciting day at Hogwarts yet had been when a freak cloudburst   
had hit just as the Slytherins were arriving and the Hufflepuffs were due for   
Defense Against The Dark Arts. Nibelungen had said, "There's nothing for it   
but to keep you all here until it passes. Pack in, all."   
  
    Even remembering the day brought a guilty smile to her face. Lorraine had   
somehow accidentally-on-purpose squished herself in next to Tom and a few of   
his cronies, praying that he wouldn't recognize her as the clumsy girl from   
the first day.   
  
    However, some prayers are destined to go unanswered. Tom's idle gaze fell   
on her, and he smiled that rare smile. "Hey...I know you....You're the one   
that fell into my arms the first day at the Sorting, aren't you?"   
  
    She could feel that her face was rapidly becoming the color of the Rosy   
Sparkweed seedling on the bench behind her, but she gathered her resolve and   
managed to nod sheepishly. "I'm a terminal klutz." Her inner voice, easily   
mortified and hard to silence once it got started on one of its many tirades,   
spoke up:  
  
    "STUPID! Why did you say that?! He'll think you're an utter oaf!"  
  
    Riddle laughed gently. "I doubt that. You haven't managed to lose any   
visible body parts from the Venemous Tentacula yet, and everyone knows that's   
the sign of a real klutz."  
  
    Lorraine remembered feeling her insides go to water at the very *idea* of   
Tom Riddle and any of her body parts in the same breath. From some distant   
corner of her consciousness, she noted Nibelungen bawling out two Slytherin   
boys who had been teasing a rare shrub of sapient pearwood, causing it to   
snarl at them.   
  
    "I s-s-uppose that would be," she ventured, then immediately cursed   
herself for the damned stutter that turned up whenever she was feeling   
particularly excited or out of her element.  
  
    At that moment, the sun returned sullenly back to its post, and the brief   
shower abated enough for Nibelungen to excuse the first-years to their   
classes. Drawing a brief, shaky breath, she got up enough courage to bid him   
goodbye. "I'll see you around, then?"   
      
    But, at that point he had already turned around to go to his bench and   
take out his pruning equipment, and Lorraine was sure that he hadn't heard   
her. She sighed, and turned to leave. Her class was already a quarter of the   
way back to the main castle, and she'd need to catch up. They were already   
late to DADA, and Hufflepuff didn't need points taken away due to her.   
  
    She quickly gathered her books and walked hurriedly towards the door.   
However, to get there, she had to pass by Tom's bench. As she made her way   
between the densely spaced benches and foliage, he looked up at her, winked   
and whispered, "Beware those killer cobblestones!"  
  
    Lorraine smiled timidly at him as she passed, and then, once she passed   
through the greenhouse portal, broke into a run. It was partly to catch up   
with her distant classmates, but mostly to use up the pure adrenaline and   
energy she felt just being around him.   
  
    As she ducked under a low-hanging branch, it showered her with droplets,   
and she grinned up at the quickly retiring rainclouds, thanking them for   
causing the unexpected interlude with the boy she adored.   
  
                                    *   *   *  
  
    The rest of Lorraine's first year passed by without much activity to   
remark upon. The Ravenclaws carried the House Championship, followed closely   
by the Gryffindors. The Slytherins accepted third without much grace, and   
when the awards were announced, several whispers and pointed looks were shot   
towards Patrick Malfoy, who had managed to achieve the dubious honor of   
losing Slytherin the most points it had ever lost in one fell swoop. He had   
obtained a large quantity of baking soda from the kitchen, and poured it into   
Professor Phytolacca's extremely acidic Transparency Potion. As one could   
predict, his prank called for "clearly drastic punishment!" as Phytolacca had   
rather ironically put it.  
  
    At the beginning of term, Lorraine was mystified as to how she would be   
able to make it through the year. But come time for summer holidays, Lorraine   
couldn't imagine not waking up in her cozy four-poster, or not assembling in   
the Great Hall for meals. Most of all, she had no idea how she was going to   
make it through the summer without seeing Tom at all.   
  
    When Caroline Meadows came to pick up her daughter from King's Cross, she   
noted a change in Lorraine as well. She couldn't tell whether it was   
something specific, or just the polish and increased independence that came   
from going to boarding school for a year. Throughout the ride home, she   
reflected that her little girl was almost 12 now, older than she had pictured   
her being. Still, time passed on, and the sweaters that she knitted for her   
had grown increasingly bigger. Caroline wondered whether she should tell her   
daughter about...well, the way the world worked. The birds and the bees. One   
look at Lorraine out in the fields behind their cottage picking flowers drove   
that thought out of her mind. She was much too young for that. There would be   
plenty of time for that later.   
  
    Lorraine's mother would have been surprised enough to drop a stitch on   
the Afghan she was making -- something she hadn't done for twenty years-- if   
she had known what her daughter was thinking about as she picked flowers, and   
indeed, all the summer.   
  
    The young girl's mind and heart had a permanent groove etched in them,   
one that had been worn into them by constant repetition. When Lorraine first   
saw Tom, she had fallen in love with him, and that emotion would never be   
undone.   
  
  
  
  
A/N: My, my, my. Gee, believe it or not, this isn't my first fic! Although,   
my last submission was a good 6 months ago, so it may count as a fresh start.   
I have a minor fascination with the women in Lord Voldemort's life, as you   
can see. This is my newest speculation, and reviews are appreciated. More to   
come soon!  
  
Thanks to:   
  
Peeves (known in other lives as Jeremy), for many, many things. (including,   
among others, posting this, beta-ing and not being a chimp)  
  
Morrigan for beta-ing when possible and for being generally supportive and a   
truly enlightened and enlightening person.  
  
CLS-- sorry that I lost touch. If you review this, email me!  
  
All of you marvelous writers who make life and daily FFN pilgrimages   
worthwhile!  
  
Also to the Evol Femmes, JKR (who Riddle belongs to) and the various friends,   
aquaintances and sworn enemies my characters are based on.  
  
If you've gotten this far, remember this: Eagles may soar, but weasels don't   
get sucked into jet engines. Ciao! 


	2. Maidenbroken -- Secundum

For an entire week, Lorraine had been keyed up at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. Familiar pathways, rituals and people all seemed to beckon her and welcome her back as she sat alone on the double seat, dreaming out the window. While Lorraine had become entrenched in the friendly cameraderie of the school, there was no one that she had really become close to.   
  
As she descended into a daydream where Tom proposed to her in front of the entire school, underneath the Great Hall blazing comets and rainbows, she failed to notice the girl who paused next to the empty seat.  
  
"I say, may I sit here?" Lorraine shook herself out of the depths of the reverie to see a petite girl with honey blonde hair smiling tentatively at her. She returned the smile back, and moved over to welcome her.   
  
Her name was Lizra Bentley, and she had just moved from Canada over the summer. She felt certain that she would be an absolute outcast, "since everyone KNEW everyone already," and a perfect duffer, "since your school's simply miles ahead of ours, I'm sure." Lizra's perky, talkative nature belied a good listener as well, and she and Lorraine passed the ride through the countryside chatting like old friends.   
  
It wasn't long before Lorraine told Lizra about Tom. In fact, the words came gushing out, untold and hidden for what seemed like an eternity. Lizra listened solemnly and nodded attentively, though her eyes danced. She had been both pursuer and pursued in the elementary game of love for years now, but she could sense that Lorraine's emotions were radically different from the "chase 'em and kiss 'em" schoolyard passions.   
  
By the time that the Hogwarts Express pulled up to the school of its name, Lizra and Lorraine had cemented a friendship that would turn out to be lifelong. However, neither of them knew that right now, and both were anxious to get to the Great Hall, and watch the Sorting of the new-first years. Lorraine watched the shaky-legged younger ones and laughed to think that she was ever that nervous...  
  
...still, she was glad that she didn't have to do it again.   
  
* * *   
  
Schedules yielded a pleasing find. Lizra had joined Hufflepuff House, so she and Lorraine had every class together. Unfortunately, the newly third-year Slytherins seemed to be located nowhere near their classes. This news was highly disappointing, but not quite as traumatic as it might have seemed. Lorraine found that with Lizra by her side, she was more outgoing than her normal "shrinking violet" self. She actually found the courage to wave to Riddle in the halls, or pass the occasional "hello," and to her surprise, he actually waved back.   
  
However, this increasingly casual contact did nothing to prepare her for the bomb that Lizra dropped one day not long after their first DADA test was returned. She came running into their deserted dormitory, utterly out of breath, and collapsed on the bed beside Lorraine.   
  
"Put down that infernal crocheting and listen to the news I've got!"  
  
"Gods, Lizra, did you run the whole way from the Astronomy tower?" she asked, while setting down the sweater she was working on for her mum's Christmas present.   
  
"No, all the way from the Defense Against The Dark Arts room," she retorted, trying to catch her breath. "Are you ready for my absolutely stupendous news? Good. Well, you know my horridly abysmal score on the last exam we had?"  
  
"Lizra, you raced up here to tell me that you did bad on the lesson about zombies?"  
  
"Actually...I raced up here to tell you about who my tutor's going to be. Guess what third year Slytherin with "soulfully grey eyes" happens to be a whiz in DADA?"  
  
Lorraine almost fell off the bed onto her abandoned project, which lay limply on the wood floor. "You're KIDDING."  
  
Lizra loved to break news, and this was a whopper of a development. "And, guess what? I asked Professor Morghaniwyth if I could bring you, my best friend in the whole wide world, who I would die if I were separated from for over fifteen minutes--"  
  
She was interrupted as Lorraine, giggling, flung a pillow at her.   
  
"Okay, well, I didn't say that exactly. But, the upshot is, you're allowed to come. I know DADA isn't that much of a challenge for you, but I don't exactly think you'll be bored."  
  
"That's the understatement of the year..."  
  
"Just don't unleash those sensuous siren powers all at once, OK? My OWL's depend on it!"  
  
Lizra squealed as Lorraine proceeded to shower her with a hail of pillow blows, and she grabbed one from her bed nearby and began to return the volley.   
  
* * *  
  
Lorraine was undeniably excited, but Lizra watched her get more and more nervous throughout the day, anticipating the first tutoring date. ("I wish you wouldn't call it that!" "Well, what else should I call it?" "...I don't know, but not a date!")  
  
As they rounded the corner to the unused classroom that they would be using, Lorraine's face turned white. Lizra sighed. Lorraine was her best friend, but there were times when she was so stupid about the things that were good for her, it made her want to scream. She took her by the hand and whispered warmly, "Siren charms in check, remember?" Lorraine grinned shakily, and headed in.   
  
Tom had his feet up on the desk, reading over their second year text. When he noticed them coming in, he gave a surprised chuckle. "I didn't know I'd get two for the price of one!"  
  
Lorraine felt like she wanted to turn around, race down the corridor and hide, until Lizra said lightly, "Yes, well, you get one of us, you get the other."  
  
She heard Tom reply, "So I've seen," as she headed for the back of the room to start working on the sweater. She didn't have the skill with needle work that her mother did, and the way it was looking, it would take her till the holidays to finish, and that was if she was lucky.   
  
"Oh, no, that'll never do." Lorraine looked up and saw Tom looking at her. "Come on, you. Up by your twin sister. Honestly, you act just like a mouse sometimes." From anyone else, it would have been a pointed insult, but with Tom's warm voice and smile, it felt like the most radiant compliment she had ever received.   
  
"In fact," he continued, "that's what I'm going to call you from now on. Mouse. It suits you for a nickname."  
  
Lizra shot a quick grin at her, and then raised an eyebrow at Riddle. "Well, if she's Mouse, what am I?"  
  
"With that look, a cat. Plus, where you find one, you have the other, and that's certainly undisputable with you two."  
  
Their conversation, which soon turned to discussion of golems, voodoo and other Dark Arts background information, washed over Lorraine peacefully. She was sitting next to Tom at the teacher's desk, close enough to feel his warmth in the chilly room. As she crocheted, she dropped a few stitches, and snarled her yarn a total of six times. However, one could expect that her mind wasn't on the work in front of her, and predictably, these slight mishaps did nothing to mar her mood.   
  
* * *  
  
Christmas Day dawned snowless, but with promises of a bumper crop of snowy white flakes before the day was over. Lorraine snuggled deeper into her comforter, and sleepily reflected that the tulip print seemed seriously out of sync with the winter weather. She was by nature a person who enjoyed sleep, periods of rest with long full dreams, and she preferred to be woken by the stream of full sun through a window. Since she had to be awake for classes early, she enjoyed these times to their full potential when she could.   
  
Since Lorraine was only very dimly awake, her senses were dulled with the muzziness that comes with semi-consciousness. If she would have been more fully alert, she would have heard the sounds of Lizra sneaking over from her bed and preparing a flying leap specially designed to wake Lorraine up while scaring the wits out of her. Lizra was, needless to say, a morning person by nature.  
  
Both girls had elected to stay at Hogwarts for the seasonal holidays. Lizra because her family was flying back to Canada to visit friends for the vacation, and both Lizra and her family agreed that going back would only reopen old wounds and make her want to stay. Lorraine's mother and father, in a completely uncharacteristic decision, had decided to take a holiday cruise. They had explained that they had never had a honeymoon when they got married-- it was the middle of the Depression, and there simply was no money. Wendell and Caroline Meadows had, therefore been saving up whenever they had the chance, and finally they had scraped together enough for a two-week vacation cruise to Italy.   
  
Lorraine had received a letter and pictures from them soon after the holidays had started. In it, her mother looked up from her ever-present knitting to blow Lorraine a kiss and wave. Her father, dripping wet from the sea, and wearing an ancient bathing costume, proudly displayed the rare seashells he was bringing home. They both were having a wonderful time, as she could see. Every few minutes, they would kiss or cuddle in the moving wizard picture. Lorraine was happy that they were happy, but in the face of parental public affection, she was bloody glad she'd stayed at Hogwarts with Lizra.  
  
Lorraine's half-conscious dreamy state was broken by the utter shock of all 125 pounds of Lizra landing heavily on her without warning. She screamed, rolled over quickly, got tangled in the sheets and ended up on the floor, slightly bruised but laughing.   
  
"It's Christmas morning, Lorraine! I've been up since six thirty!"  
  
"Lizra, you are not human. I swear, you never sleep!"  
  
"It's CHRISTMAS! There are *presents* out there!"  
  
"Yes, and there's a nice warm bed in here, which I was just unceremoniously dumped out of by a greedy little harpy named Lizra!"  
  
The good-natured argument was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Nibelungen in a dark green bedrobe with bunny slippers. Her blonde hair was still messy from bed, and her features held a look of alarm.   
  
"I heard a thump in here, and a scream! Is everyone all right?" Then she noticed Lorraine tangled on the floor and Lizra sprawled on the naked bed, and relaxed. "Honestly, you two. I thought that Grindelwald had made his way in here or something!"   
  
The girls and Nibelungen had gotten to spend some fun, non strictly student/teacher time together, since all the other Hufflepuff students had left for home. The professor confessed that holidays were especially lonely for her since her family and friends were back in Sweden, and the holiday wasn't really long enough for her to travel back. So, Lorraine and Lizra had adopted her as a sort of older sister for Christmastime.   
  
"Well, now that you're both officially," and, with a glance at Lorraine, "or, in some cases, unwillingly awake, let's go down to the common room. There are presents for both of you under the Christmas tree, and and even some for dried up old me!"   
  
Lorraine quickly got dressed and washed and headed down. She hadn't wanted to get up, but now that she was awake, she could feel the excitement and anticipation rising within her. As she came down the stairs, delightling in the unaccustomed feeling of the thick, stringy carpet against her feet, she saw that Lizra had already organized the presents by the recipient.   
  
"Well, I needed *something* to do while you were getting your beauty rest!" she said, answering the unspoken question.  
  
Each of them settled into an armchair with their stack of presents nearby. "Do we want to take turns opening, Professor Nibelungen?" Lorraine asked. She liked to see what everyone else got, almost as much as she enjoyed opening her own gifts.   
  
"Sure, Lorraine, that sounds like fun. And, for this holiday, both of you do me a favor and call me Brunhilde. It sounds so ridiculous to be badgering titles around when it's just the three of us. Lizra, do you want to go first?"  
  
Lizra tore into her first present with a vengeance, revealing three boxes of the newest delight from Honeydukes' Sweetshop-- Chocolate Frogs!  
  
"Oh, thank you, Lorraine! You knew I wanted to try these out ever since the third years brought some back. How did you get them, since we can't go into the village?"  
  
Lorraine grinned. "I got that Doris Crockford, she's a fifth year Gryffindor, to get them for me."  
  
"Well, thanks, they'll be great for back row DADA sneak snack fests!" Lizra said, with a devilish look at Brunhilde, nee Professor Nibelungen . Lizra's sweet tooth was already legendary among the second-years, and she usually had something delectable and toothsome hidden about her person.   
  
Brunhilde sighed. "No wonder you need tutoring in that class."  
  
"Actually, when the caramel sticks her teeth together, she listens up, so it's all for the best really," Lorraine said wryly.  
  
"Oh, hush up you! Profes-- I mean, Brunhilde, open yours next." As much as the two liked the professor, and as nice as she was, it still felt strange to call her by her first name.   
  
The tall, blonde teacher leaned down to pick up a soft, flexible parcel. As she gently unwrapped it and saw what lay inside, her eyes widened. Brunhilde lifted a beautiful silken shawl free of the paper, and a drafty breeze from the walls caught a fold and blew it wide so that the girls could see the delicate embroidery of scarlet poppies that decorated it. To their surprise, when she lowered it, the teacher was crying.   
  
Lorraine instinctively moved to her side. "What's wrong, Professor?"  
  
She sheepishly dried her eyes on her robe. "I'm sorry. Gods, what a beautiful thing...utterly impractical, but, oh..." Shaking herself back to reality, she continued. "It's from my...beau, I suppose you would say, back in Sweden. His name is Sven, and I thought he had totally forgotten about me here in Scotland when a gift didn't arrive."  
  
"Well, the evidence is quite to the contrary," said Lizra dryly.   
  
Brunhilde laughed out loud, a happy laugh that showed her white teeth and vigorous smile. "I suppose you could say that. Now, enough of that, and on to some of yours, Lorraine."  
  
Lorraine ended up with a beautiful string of Italian beads, one half of a friendship necklace from Lizra, and a curious white envelope with a note in it. She unfolded the paper, and, in her mother's handwriting, it said, "Go to the owlery, fifth perch in the eighth row."  
  
She immediately jumped up and raced down the corridors, Lizra and Nibelungen right behind her. It was a blessing that she didn't pitch down any of the steep staircases, for at the speed she was going, it would surely have been a grisly death sentence, not a festive Chrismas activity by any means.   
  
Lorraine made a hairpin turn into the owlery, and quickly checked her coordinates. On the designated perch, a marvelously dignified owl was just settling down, and gave the breathless three humans a curious look.   
  
She was a graceful, intelligent creature, with shiny feathers the color of fine slate. As Lorraine held out a slightly hestitant finger, she perched and gave her a thoroughly interrogative stare.   
  
"I think she's accepted you as a mistress," Lizra joked half-heartedly. "What are you going to name her?"  
  
Looking back into the owl's inscrutable amber eyes, Lorraine answered, "Quandary."  
  
Quandary -- a synonym for Riddle.  
  
* * *  
Before getting off the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year, the girls had already made elaborate plans to meet over the summer. Lizra was invited to sleep over at Lorraine's cottage anytime, and Lorraine was told that "you absolutely *have* to come to the seashore with us this year. Otherwise I'll be stuck with my three little brothers for two weeks, and that is a fate worse than death. You would be shirking your duty as a friend not to come!"  
  
So, towards the middle of July, Lorraine and Lizra were headed off to the Bentley family cottage for two glorious weeks of sand, surf, sun, and, of course, the incessant sniveling and whining of Lizra's younger brothers Sean, Treye and Anthony, eight year old triplets with a zest for battle. Within five minutes of the time she had met them, they proceeded to embroil themselves in a three way tussle which ended with Lizra's mother promising "spankings so bad they'd have to eat standing up for a WEEK, if you three don't hush up back there!"   
  
Despite the murderous triumvirate, which busied themselves with digging a hole to China as soon as they hit the beach, Lorraine and Lizra had a marvelous time exploring the little shore town. Within three days, Lizra had all the of age boys competing for her attention. While she privately confessed to Lorraine that she had no interest in any of them, she was always seen surrounded by a cloud of three or more. A few of them half-heartedly approached Lorraine, but, while she was never mean to them, she always gently discouraged it. She was always semi-consciously comparing them to Tom-- the way that one walked, the color of that one's hair-- but none duplicated or outranked him to Lorraine.   
  
The time passed before she knew it. All too soon, the Bentley family (with the addition of Lorraine, of course) was inhabiting that frenzied state consisting of stuffing all the clothes back into suitcases, checking under the beds for lost items, arguing over, "who's toothbrush that really was, and no, I refuse to pick it up and throw it away, " getting one last bag of pretty shells, and, of course, pulling Anthony and Sean off of Treye, or Treye and Sean off of Anthony, or....you get the drift.   
  
When the Muggle town car (the Bentley family used one so as not to appear abnormal) arrived at Lorraine's house, the whole family piled out to help her with her things. Caroline invited them all in for a cup of tea, which the grownups accepted. The kids headed out to the backyard, which stretched for a full, untamed acre into the countryside. The twins, predictably, wrestled and argued, while Lizra and Lorraine sat down in the sun and talked.   
  
"Only a week till third year. God, I can't wait!"  
  
"Oh, that's only because you get to see the love of your life again."  
  
Lorraine threw a clump of grass at her. "Oh, hush up. At least I don't have beaux spread all around the United Kingdom."  
  
"Is it my fault I'm incredibly attractive and desirable?" Lizra fluttered her eyelashes in a parody of some of the older girls from Hogwarts.  
  
Lorraine cocked her head to the side and considered. "Yes."  
  
Lizra laughed. "No, seriously. I miss Hogwarts, too. I hear that we're supposed to have a new Transfiguration teacher this year."  
  
"Really?!"  
  
"Yeah, didn't you hear? At the end of last year, Professor Chelys resigned to become a sea captain. Said it had been his lifelong dream to sail the oceans blue."  
  
"Gee, sounds like we should get him an eye patch and wooden leg," Lorraine said, shaking her head. "Always thought he was a bit barmy."  
  
"Half the teachers at Hogwarts are -- that's why we love the place."   
  
"True."  
  
An inexpertly thrown rock landed next to them as the triplets launched into another fight. Lorraine and Lizra exchanged glances.   
  
"C'mon, I'll go get Mom and Dad before they rip your house apart."  
  
Lorraine chuckled and followed her inside.  



End file.
